21/05/2026
Dear Me,
Youâve been building a life that once only existed in your head during quiet nights, long walks, and random âwhat ifs.â And somehow, slowly, itâs becoming real.
You found yourself through creation.
Through captions written at midnight, unreleased videos sitting quietly in your gallery, early morning runs to places that remind you how small and alive you are, and through every frame that looked more like a postcard than content. You didnât just build a feed â you built proof that you were here, feeling everything deeply.
There are days you overthink if youâre doing enough. Days you feel behind. Days where the pressure to âmake itâ feels heavier than the excitement of creating. But look at you. From someone trying to figure things out, you became someone with vision. Taste. Direction. Identity.
And maybe thatâs what makes this beautiful.
You are no longer creating just to impress people. You create because it keeps you alive inside.
Your love for arts became deeper.
Your love for nature became personal.
Your love for Lakewood became part of your soul.
âMemento moriâ was never just a bio.It became your compass.
A reminder that life is temporary, so you might as well make it meaningful, cinematic, honest, and felt.
Youâre learning that softness is not weakness.
That being emotional does not make you less of a man.
That slowing down to admire light, silence, mountains, skin tanned by the sun, and genuine conversations is its own form of success.
You are becoming the kind of person younger you would stare at in disbelief.
Not because of money.Not because of fame.
But because you finally look comfortable in your own skin.
And yes, there are still unfinished things.Unreleased projects.
Dreams too big for your current situation.Moments where you compare yourself to people moving faster.
But your life was never meant to be rushed.
You are slowly becoming a storyteller with substance. The kind of creator people feel before they even understand. The kind of person who turns ordinary places into something sacred because you know how to see beauty where others donât even look.
Youâve survived versions of yourself nobody knows about.
And despite everything, your heart still chooses wonder.
Still chooses to create.
Still chooses to hope.
That says everything.
One day, youâll look back at this version of yourself â tired, hopeful, figuring things out â and realize this was the beginning of the life you prayed for without even knowing how to describe it yet.
Keep going.
Not loudly.
Not desperately.
Just truthfully.
â Yours,
The person youâre slowly becoming
